Damage Report
by Kethrineth
Summary: An away mission gone sour causes an unaddressed problem from Commander Tucker's past to resurface, threatening his career and his future aboard Enterprise.


Damage Report  
by Kethrineth  
  
** Disclaimer: Paramount and the sundry talented people at the helm own them. I'm just borrowing them and slipping off into an alternate dimension known as fanfiction to play with them a while. No fictitious people were permanently harmed in the making of this story. **  
  
  
"How is he?" Jonathan Archer stepped forward quickly, too many anxious hours falling from his face in relief at the sight of Dr. Phlox emerging from the other room. The broken stillness of his chief engineer had to've been only a temporary thing, maybe some physical injury the doctor had missed on the initial scan he'd done aboard the shuttlepod. The captain's eyes pleaded for an explanation he could accept -- one that wouldn't turn his world upside down and shake all the stuffing out.  
  
"Thanks to Subcommander T'Pol, physically, he's suffering from only mild malnutrition and a few scrapes and bruises." Enterprise's alien medical officer was cordial as always but he had that terseness about him now that his human shipmates had quickly learned was a courteous shield for extreme disapproval. "My more immediate concern is, of course, his mental state."  
  
Archer let his body sag with exhaustion, one hand reaching behind himself to rest on the desk, giving him something solid to hold on to. "They were only supposed to be out there four days, not three weeks. We would've never left them with no shuttlepod and so few supplies if I'd know it would take this long to get back. There was just no way to predict those ion storms."  
  
"Forgive me for intruding, Captain, but you seemed dismayed rather than surprised by the Commander's condition." One elegant eyebrow arched questioningly across the darkly beautiful alien face of the Vulcan science officer as she joined the two males in Dr. Phlox's office.  
  
"This is what you were afraid of finding when the ion storms delayed our return here." Phlox spoke softly. It was a certainty that had grown inside him as he tended his singularly uncooperative patient. Archer had been afraid as they raced for the long overdue rendezvous with the landing party. More afraid than a captain or even a close friend would normally be, given the circumstances. All along, Archer had kept his own counsel and nursed some secret fear -- a fear that had clearly been more than realized when the shuttlepod sent to pick up the landing party arrived bearing the unhurt but ominously still body of Commander Tucker. "This sort of thing has happened before with him, hasn't it?"  
  
"Not like this." Archer defended himself for just a second before his eyes fell. He seemed to fold in on himself a little bit, but he was a captain. He was responsible for his crew. Archer's eyes rose. He wanted to plead with the disheveled Vulcan and disapproving Denobulan but he held it in and began to relate what he knew.   
  
"You've seen how hard he takes it when things go wrong and there's nothing he can do about it. When we first met at the Academy, it was worse. He'd get depressed sometimes over a bad grade or bad breakup with some girl and just not show up for class for a few days. According to his roommate, he'd sleep all day and sit up all night, brooding in the dark. He always snapped out of it. At worst he'd go out, get plastered and some barkeep would call security when he wouldn't leave."  
  
"And he was never referred for psychiatric evaluation?" The crisp question couldn't hide the growing disapproval. Phlox didn't bother correcting Archer's misperception. The excessive sleep and lifeless brooding should've raised alarms with Starfleet's medical staff -- would've raised alarms no doubt if they'd been reported.  
  
"He took the same psych screens every cadet did and passed! There was no reason to single him out just because he had a little trouble adjusting!" Archer insisted.  
  
"But you at least suspected that he had the potential for this sort of episode." T'Pol was coldly logical and unrelenting as always -- perhaps a little more so than usual but perhaps not. "You suspected and you hand-picked him for this assignment anyway. An assignment which took him impossibly far from home and help and placed him in a high pressure world he would in all likelihood be unable to cope with in the long term."  
  
"Yes, I did!" Archer exploded. "I brought him out here because Trip was absolutely the best qualified engineer Starfleet had for this job. I thought that once he got a little more experience under his belt, he'd settle down and quit losing it quite so much when things get out of control. I never thought he could go this far downhill without some kind of warning. I'm sorry if that's not the decision the Vulcan High Command would make but humans are flawed creatures. We like to give others the benefit of the doubt. A chance to rise to a challenge. As far as I know, he hasn't had any problems since the Academy."  
  
"I really doubt that." Phlox put in. "I've noticed discrepancies in the Commander's medical records that didn't make sense until now. Odd, minor injuries sustained in accidents that shouldn't have occurred to a man of Mr. Tucker's skills and experience if he were paying attention to what he was doing. Occasional medical lay-ins from duty with no explanation. I also ran across a notation that he was relieved of duty for unspecified medical reasons while serving aboard a small patrol ship after his graduation. Shortly after that he was transferred back to Earth for undisclosed personal reasons and reassigned to Henry Archer's warp five project. No doubt the captain's way of giving Mr. Tucker the benefit of the doubt and a chance to rise to the challenge in the relative safety of a laboratory."  
  
"Just tell me how bad it is." Archer demanded, straightening up and retreating into his command persona, his voice sharp. He hadn't known. As Trip's friend he should've known but he hadn't. He'd feared that the emergency supplies wouldn't last, that there would be hostile life forms down there that might attack the two, that their phase pistols would fail or that there would be some hidden danger in the atmosphere itself. He'd even feared, when he admitted it to himself, that Trip might come a little unglued down there when the Enterprise failed to return as scheduled and do something stupid -- then end up kicking himself over it for the next week. He'd never considered that his friend, his trusted right hand, might simply crack. "That's an order, Doctor."  
  
Phlox unbent slightly. Allowing himself a long gusty sigh, the doctor moved around Archer to take a seat behind the cluttered fortress of his desk. The fresh medical chart clattered to rest between them, a silent condemnation.  
  
"It's difficult to tell without a much more extensive period of observation." Phlox admitted. "Commander Tucker seems to be suffering from severe depression. Currently he's sleeping. Prior to that he was unresponsive to efforts to communicate or to motivate him. Though aware of his surroundings and my presence, he made no attempt to interact. He simply doesn't care."  
  
"He's done then?" Archer asked, defeated. "We just ship him home to his family with a 'We're sorry. We made a mistake.' and try to forget this ever happened?"  
  
"He shouldn't have been on a deep space assignment in the first place." T'Pol intruded more forcefully than she might normally have allowed herself to be were she less dirty and tired. Controlling the commander's panic and rage when he was unable to find a way off the empty, isolated planet they seemed to have been abandoned on and then caring for the deteriorating human once he lost all hope of rescue had sapped her strength and sorely tried her patience.  
  
Phlox merely sat staring down at the desk and the chart that might well be the footnote ending a thus far outstanding career while he looked at something in his head. "No." The normally cheery physician placed both hands firmly, palms down on the desk, his eyes making contact with both officers in turn. "While perhaps Mr. Tucker shouldn't have been here in the first place, he is here now and we are not going to simply abandon him to the darkness."  
  
"What are you suggesting, Doctor?" Archer didn't allow his hopes to rise far. His hopes for the brilliant young man now lying in the other room were what had blinded him to an apparently serious problem and led them all here.  
  
"With Relay Four malfunctioning, we're on our own until we return to the vicinity of one of the other communication buoys. We've come a long way in our understanding of the chemistry of the human brain. For now, we shall give the antidepressants time to do their work restoring a proper chemical balance. As long as Mr. Tucker's behavior becomes more adaptive, I expect I'll even be able to release him to return to duty soon enough. Under close medical scrutiny, of course. I'll let you know what my recommendation for his continued care is when we're ready to transmit it back to Earth."  
  
"Thank you, Doctor." Archer nodded uncomfortably and quickly turned to leave. There was nothing more he could do here.  
  
~*~  
  
It didn't hit Archer until he was seated on the edge of his bed putting his boots on the next morning. No, he couldn't have Trip figure out the gravity fluctuations on deck three today. That task would have to be left to a lesser member of the engineering staff as might many other crucial matters.  
  
Slamming his foot down unnecessarily hard, Archer got to his feet and went to activate the comm system. He stopped with his hand hovering over the button. No, this was better handled in person.  
  
~*~  
  
"Trip?" Archer spoke softly even though Dr. Phlox had reassured him Trip was awake.  
  
The eyes that focused on him when Tucker turned his head toward his visitor's voice were lifeless and empty, the face weary beyond belief. They couldn't possibly belong to the man who had buoyed everyone's spirits ever since they left Earth. Trip's warm sense of humor and ready laughter had been a focal point for a lot of people. On the entire ship, Archer couldn't think of anyone who didn't like the chief engineer. Ten people must've asked him about Trip on his way down here this morning.  
  
"How do you feel?" Archer let his hand come to rest on the younger man's arm as he stood by the bed. The sudden shame that flooded Tucker's eyes made his heart falter just a little before limping onward. It was better than the deadness of a moment ago.  
  
There was very little physically wrong with Trip but Archer was unable to delude himself into believing his third in command was a well man right now. Not with those broken eyes watching him from a thousand light years away. The long talk he'd had with Dr. Phlox before coming in here was supposed to have prepared him for this and for the bitter anger and self-condemnation likely to come in their own turn. It still hurt to see it and know that this was for real. This wasn't just some blue funk that could be shaken off. This was a true mental illness -- more than enough to end a man's career.  
  
"I lost it, Jon." Tucker's breath caught and quickened. "God. I'm so sorry Cap'n. When the weather started to change and we lost our supplies and then you didn't come back I just fell apart. I panicked."  
  
Tucker's eyes swam with pain he refused to allow release. "I panicked." He repeated, choking on the phrase.  
  
"No, Trip. I'm sorry." Archer gently squeezed his friend's arm. "I tried to get back. I just couldn't. Anyone would've panicked a little bit at being left like that."  
  
"Doesn't matter." Tucker brushed off the apology. He'd screwed up big this time. It was good of Jon to try and make it easy on him but he wasn't going to kid himself about it. Once the incident reports hit Starfleet, his career was over. Right now he was just using up oxygen aboard Enterprise.  
  
He wanted to ask what would happen next. Would there be some sort of formal review before he was stripped of his commission or had it already happened? Had his replacement been chosen yet? How long did he have before they rendezvoused with a ship that would return him to Earth and to his family in disgrace? What would he do now? Did it even matter? He was crazy. That was the only explanation for his complete breakdown on the planet's surface. There was probably some sort of protocol that had to be followed, some facility designated to handle people like him.  
  
Ultimately, there were too many questions. Asking even one of them seemed like too much of an effort right now.  
  
"I think maybe I'd like to sleep now." Tucker ventured. His eyes felt so heavy. Meeting the pain and disappointment in his Captain's eyes had sucked the life out of him. He should just sleep and let Jon go on about his business without feeling obligated to keep him company.  
  
"Fine." Archer responded gruffly. It rattled him seeing Trip like this. He wasn't ready to do this. "I'll come back later tonight, after my duty shift."  
  
Guilt drove the captain as he made his uncomfortable escape. He'd been around Trip when he was depressed before but it had never been this bad. *Not until I brought him out here.* Archer's conscience nudged as he strode blindly out of sickbay.  
  
For his part, the commander was already drifting off. Sleep was safe. Too bad he wasn't allowed to stay there.  
  
"Oh no you don't." Dr. Phlox's voice was grim and determined and far too close, yanking Trip from his cocoon. "Rise and shine Commander. You've already had far more sleep than your body needs and we have a great deal to do today."  
  
"Leave me alone." The hot spark inside quickly grew. It was a flame by the time Tucker's eyelids opened all the way. "I'm tired."  
  
"I'm aware of that." Phlox was firm and brisk. This situation was far too serious for sympathy. Any emotional support Charles Tucker needed, he'd get from his captain and friend later. "Nonetheless, you're getting up now and taking a much needed shower. After that you're going to shave off that matted mess on your face and join me for breakfast, or in my case lunch. You're going to need your strength for the tests I've got to run on you."  
  
"I guess crazy people don't get a whole lot of choices around here." Fury it would seem, made good fuel for sarcasm, Tucker reflected. It also carried him into a sitting position on the edge of the bio-bed.  
  
"I don't intend to argue with you Commander nor do I intend to sugarcoat things. While I don't like the term 'crazy', you are in my opinion mentally ill and you have a great many important choices ahead of you."  
  
"Like what? Staring at ink blots or answering questions about my momma?" Tucker taunted, making no attempt to hide his bitterness. It was seeping away too fast as it was, leaving him feeling dead inside just like he'd felt all those days staring at the orange sky waiting for a ship that never seemed to come. His fingers dug into his bare legs, the pain giving him some focus. "It's not like you all were in any kind of hurry to get me back so just leave me alone!"  
  
Phlox ignored the transparent attempt to anger him. He imagined he'd be seeing a lot of acting out from Commander Tucker over the next few days if the journals, and his diagnosis, were correct. His voice remained as impassive as ever. "At present you have the choice to remain in that bed and as you put it 'crazy' or you can get up and try to get well. I do have to warn you, however, that I'm not going to make giving up easy."  
  
Thus began one of the more challenging days of either being's lifetime. It was to be the first in a long string of them.  
  
~*~  
  
Three weeks had passed since the incident in the Magyar system. One week since Tucker had been allowed to return to a full duty schedule. It was all he'd wanted up until he got it. Those first few days with Phlox badgering him to talk about his feelings all the time had been hell and when he was finally allowed to return to his own quarters the pressure only got worse. The crew always seemed to be staring and whispering when he ventured out and Archer was always watching him with sad and worried eyes. He'd have just stayed in if he could but that had been a condition of his release from sickbay. He had to leave his quarters. He had to show up in the mess hall for at least two meals a day and he had to report to sickbay every morning to take those damn pills.  
  
Then this week had come and, with it, his return to duty. It had been the hardest week of his life so far. He could no longer avoid his friends or the well-meaning inquiries of people who had been told simply that he became ill while on the planet.  
  
It was a struggle just to get out of bed and go through the routine every morning that would get him to work on time and in presentable condition. Staying focused and busy through the excruciatingly long eight hour day without biting someone's head off required a terrifying amount of effort and, no matter how hard he tried, he knew he was only getting a fraction of his former work load done.  
  
He just couldn't do it any more. He wasn't getting any better no matter what lies the Doctor told Captain Archer. All of his dreams were over. The very first chief engineer of Earth's first starship would have only two small footnotes in the history books. The first; his humiliating accidental impregnation by the Xyrillian female and the second; the notation that he'd cracked up, just one more example for the Vulcans to cite in their arguments against humanity's readiness to be out here.  
  
As soon as the door slid closed behind him, Trip Tucker let himself slide down the smooth surface until he came to rest on the floor of his quarters. He couldn't move. He didn't want to. All he wanted was the oblivion of sleep. It wouldn't come even though he let himself fall over onto his side and curl up into a nice, safe little ball.  
  
After a few minutes, Trip forced himself to his knees and then to his feet. Crossing the room to the comm unit wasn't as hard as it had seemed from over by the door. Neither was thumbing the switch that activated it. If he just acted without thinking he could do this.  
  
"Tucker to Archer."  
  
"Trip?" The response was almost immediate. "Is everything all right?"  
  
"Not really." Tucker admitted. "I think I really need someone to talk to tonight. Do you think you could come by my place for a while if you aren't too busy?"  
  
"I'll be right there."  
  
"Thank you." Tucker whispered to the closed line as his body sagged against the small desk. Sometimes reaching out for help was the hardest part of this sickness that had crashed down on him crushing the life out of him and the light out of his once bright future. He did feel a little bit stronger though, just having done it.  
  
~*~  
  
"Jon? Do you think I'm gettin' any better?" Tucker raised his head from where he'd leaned it against the edge of his bed and looked over to his captain, seated comfortably on the edge of his desk, swinging his feet.  
  
The question had come out of the blue. One moment they'd been laughing over some silly memory, the next moment this.  
  
Archer sobered quickly, giving the question the serious consideration it deserved. His foot ceased idly drumming against the desk leg. "Yes, Trip, I do. Tonight when you didn't think you could keep going you didn't give in to it. A second ago you were laughing. A week ago I wouldn't have believed that was possible any more. I've missed hearing you laugh."  
  
"I've missed doing it." Trip agreed with an embarrassed smile that faded instantly when the comm panel chimed.  
  
"Dr. Phlox to Commander Tucker. Report to sickbay immediately."  
  
"He didn't sound too pleased." Archer observed casting a worried look at Trip's fallen face. There was no trace of laughter now and more than a hint of the deadness that had weighed him down when Archer first arrived tonight.  
  
"I broke the rules and skipped lunch." Tucker explained from his spot on the floor. "I was busy with a system analysis -- boring stuff. I just felt like if I took a break and sat down for lunch I wouldn't be able to get up again. I'd just sit there and stare off into space until somebody dragged me back to sickbay. I would've been okay if I'd had dinner in the mess but after I got off, well, you saw how I was when you got here. It was all I could do to drag myself back here and call you."  
  
"Yeah. Don't worry about it." Archer got to his feet and lightly gripped the younger man's shoulder for just a moment before slapping his back and moving away from him to the doorway. "I'll take care of it. It's late. Why don't you just get some rest? Maybe tomorrow will be a better day."  
  
"Maybe." Tucker forced himself to smile until the captain was gone. "Maybe..."  
  
The whisper trailed off. Somehow, it didn't feel worth it to get to his feet and get ready for bed. Instead, he reached behind himself and dragged the blanket from his bed, curling up right where he was.  
  
~*~  
  
"All I'm saying is maybe you could cut him a little slack. He's really trying to get over this."  
  
"I'm aware of that, Captain. That's why just this once I'm not going to call upon Lieutenant Reed to drag the commander down here for an evaluation despite his little lapse in our agreement." Phlox leaned back in his desk chair, rubbing his face before letting his hands fall. "I understand that you only want to help Commander Tucker but you can't become the sole focus of his world. He needs to find his own strength."  
  
"You're saying that I'm overprotecting him." Archer was beginning to understand a little the weight Trip fought with. He wanted so badly to help his friend, to make all of this right for him -- for both of them. He didn't want to face these stars without his best friend along to share it all.  
  
"Not entirely. I'm saying that you are allowing him to be overly reliant on you."  
  
"He was drowning tonight! He reached out to me for help. What was I supposed to do? Just let him go under?" Clear blue eyes reached out, pleading with this alien being to understand how very impossible that was for him. He'd been Charlie Tucker's friend long before he became responsible for him as his captain.  
  
"Of course not." Phlox waved dismissively. "From the sound of it you handled the situation fairly well. Tell me Captain, why do you believe I ordered Mr. Tucker to attend meals in the mess hall?"  
  
"I don't know." Archer paused, thinking now rather than reacting. "To get him up and motivated and to make sure he eats, I suppose. T'Pol did say it was hard to get him to eat while they were on the planet even when she found enough food to supplement their remaining supplies. That's why he was suffering from malnutrition when they got back."  
  
"That's only a small part of it." Phlox explained, wishing he could make Jonathan Archer face the full seriousness of his friend's problem without losing hope. "I wanted him to get out of his quarters and be surrounded by people. People he had to interact with. People who missed him and needed him. He needs more to hold onto than just you Captain. Space is a dangerous place. What do you think would happen to Mr. Tucker if you were to be killed now?"  
  
"It would be a blow." Archer admitted. "But he'd weather it with help."  
  
"I wish I believed that." Phlox told the human softly. "Unfortunately, I don't. I believe that with his anchor in this world torn from him, he could possibly take his own life."  
  
"Trip? Suicidal?" Archer's voice rose. His heart was suddenly trying to do a barrel roll in his chest and it hurt like hell.  
  
"It's a potential I've been monitoring him for very closely. Untreated or inadequately treated depression is still the number one cause of suicide among your species." Phlox took his eyes off the human who looked as though he'd just had the breath knocked out of him, giving Archer a chance to recover.  
  
The Denobulan doctor went over to one of his cabinets, needlessly rechecking the compound he'd begun work on when it became apparent that his current course of treatment wasn't going to be effective in bringing the engineer back from the brink. It was ready. It had been ready two days ago but he'd hesitated to use it because of the increased risk of complications. Putting the vial away he turned back to Archer. "In the morning, I'm going to adjust Mr. Tucker's medication and see if that helps any. What I'd like you to do is try and involve him more in the life of Enterprise outside the engine room. When was the last time he joined you and Subcommander T'Pol for dinner?"  
  
"He's not up to it." Archer rejected the idea, rallying a little -- enough to push aside the horrifying picture of Trip dead by his own hand because he hadn't gotten the engineer the help he needed. "T'Pol wants him off the ship. She doesn't think he's fit to be here. I can't subject him to that -- even if it might be true." The captain's voice and eyes fell with the small admission that maybe, just maybe, there wasn't anything they could do for Trip.  
  
"Subcommander T'Pol is as concerned as you are." Phlox's tone was low and kind. Sometimes he felt just a little lost dealing with the emotions of what was after all an alien race to him but grief and despair seemed to be fairly universal. "You might be surprised at how supportive she can be."  
  
"I'll think about it." Archer promised, rising to his feet and taking his newly heightened doubts with him as he prepared to leave. "Thank you for not having Malcolm drag him down here tonight. Good night Doctor."  
  
~*~  
  
The less than subtle sound of a throat being cleared brought Trip Tucker's head up from the data padd he'd been laboring over for the past two hours. If it had been any other voice he'd have welcomed the interruption. Paperwork had been a trial for him on a good day before the planet and the sickness. Now it was sheer torture, almost enough to drive him back under the covers of that bio-bed in surrender. The only thing worse was currently standing in the doorway of his office.  
  
"T'Pol." Tucker greeted with a sickly grimace he hoped would pass for a smile. "What brings you down to engineering?"  
  
"The crew's quarterly evaluations are due in two days, Commander." The Vulcan ran cool eyes over the human who would've been the ship's first officer had not her people intervened and arranged her own placement aboard this vessel. While vastly improved, the commander was still far quieter than his established norm and appeared to have lost further weight since their return to Enterprise despite the efforts of Dr. Phlox and Captain Archer.  
  
T'Pol laid her own data padd neatly on the desk well apart from the stack of no doubt unread reports from Tucker's staff. She would have to speak with the captain about having the engineering crew submit duplicate copies of all reports to her. "I've taken the liberty of preparing performance reviews for the engineering staff. I thought you might wish to read them."  
  
"You did reviews for my staff?!" Commander Tucker leaned forward, his blood pressure shooting up a few notches and wiping away both exhaustion and embarrassment.  
  
T'Pol's eyebrow rose higher still, even as the chill in her voice dropped a notch nearer to freezing. "I had observed your recent difficulty in getting your reports or anything else done on schedule. As first officer of this vessel I could not allow the efficiency of this department to be impaired by your disability."  
  
"This department is runnin' just fine, thank you very much!" Trip yelled, rising from the desk. "It'll be runnin' even better when you're gone!"  
  
"Please, Commander." T'Pol did not allow herself to retreat in the face of Commander Tucker's anger. She was a Vulcan. She was in control of her own emotions and quite capable of defending herself if need be. "There is no reason to become so overwrought. It places a needless strain on you which is precisely what I was seeking to avoid."  
  
"Get out of my office and take your damned opinions with you!" Tucker could feel his pulse pounding in his head, trying to burst his eardrums from the inside. One swift, nearly unconscious sweep of his hand sent the Vulcan's data padd crashing into the wall.  
  
"Certainly Commander." T'Pol acquiesced, bowing slightly as she stepped back into main engineering. She could feel the stares of the human crew, all frozen at their posts by the outburst. T'Pol crossed the short distance to the main doors without looking toward any of them. In this instance, she deemed it wise to wait until she was in a less populated area before contacting the captain and Mr. Reed.  
  
Though she refused to allow it to show on her face, T'Pol's Vulcan blood burned with borrowed shame. Mental and emotional disturbances were rare on Vulcan but they did exist. Those without logic were cared for. They were not subjected to the eyes of the public by those who claimed to treasure them as friends. She did not understand how Captain Archer could believe he was helping his friend.  
  
~*~  
  
"Trip?" Jonathan Archer stepped lightly into the chief engineer's cluttered office and looked around.  
  
The room was a lot bigger than most offices. It had to be due to the nature of the job. Other than the broken pieces of T'Pol's padd everything was either put away or carefully spread out for use in one of the many projects always going on down here. While Trip had let his personal quarters pretty much go to hell lately, he'd kept his workspace scrupulously neat. Tucker himself was seated at his desk staring at a data padd with his head cradled in his hands. It was a better sign than he'd hoped for after T'Pol's report.  
  
"Did she tell ya what she did, Jon or just send you down here to calm down the crazy person?" Tucker's voice was bitter.  
  
Archer studied his friend as he slowly approached the desk. There was a slight flush to his face that betrayed the anger T'Pol had mentioned but there was little of it left in the eyes that rose to meet his own. The blue pools brimmed with misery their master wouldn't allow to escape.  
  
"I think she called me down here to make sure you were all right." Archer spoke softly as he settled himself on the corner of the desk. "You've got a lot of worried people out there."  
  
"I should probably go out and get them back to work, let 'em know nothing's wrong." Tucker volunteered without moving. His outburst had sapped his strength. "Ya know, I'd almost be grateful to see Malcolm or Phlox step through the door with a hypo-spray and a net right about now, except that that would prove T'Pol's right about me."  
  
"She did call Malcolm." Archer responded. "I had him take charge of your people and find something for them to focus on other than this office for a while. What happened Trip?"  
  
"She did the quarterlies for me!" Tucker could feel heat flooding his cheeks again, anger mixing with shame. "She didn't ask if I needed help or even if I agreed with the write ups, she just dropped off copies in case I was interested. Why should I even bother coming down here day after day pretending to still be your chief engineer when you've got that Vulcan doing the job for me?"  
  
"You are my chief engineer not T'Pol." Archer insisted, anger tightening the skin around his eyes before he reined it in. "Until those reports were overdue she had no business interfering with your work. She overstepped her authority and I will speak to her about it. I promise you that but I need you to show her some respect in return."  
  
"When did I do anything to her?" Tucker's voice rose in amazement. He couldn't believe Jon was taking her side.  
  
"She said you threw the data padd, Trip. I can see the pieces lying right over there." Archer gestured toward the broken shards and scattered components, keeping his movements small and his voice firm but not raised. He wasn't down here to escalate things any further than they already were.  
  
"Come on! It's not like I threw it at her or anything. It just sorta happened." Trip defended himself guilt flaming his pale complexion.  
  
"I know." Archer agreed. "If you'd thrown it at her we'd be having this conversation in the brig, regardless of your medical condition. You're a senior officer, Trip. You can't act out like this -- not in public -- and an office with an open door is pretty public."  
  
"I was almost done with the reports." Trip's gaze returned to the data padd he'd worked so hard on, almost mournful.  
  
The miserable monotone went nearly unheard. It took a second for Archer to understand but when he did he felt himself cave in a little. His voice, when he spoke, was quiet and tired.  
  
"You forced yourself to get them done early for the sake of your team and she made you feel like it was all a waste."  
  
Tucker nodded, relieved that he'd been understood, that someone else had put it into the words that had become too hard for him lately. His voice cracked a little when he spoke again. "I've been trying Jon. I'm doing the job as best I can."  
  
*For however long you let me stay.* Tucker added in his mind. They were getting closer and closer to communications range despite a few detours. He didn't kid himself into believing he'd be allowed even the pretense to being a functioning member of the crew once Starfleet was contacted but until then, he wasn't going to let Jon down if he could help it.  
  
"May I see them?" Archer held out his hand to take the data padd silently extended to him. For several long minutes the room was still while the captain skimmed through a few of the reports.  
  
"These look like good work." Archer commented, clearing his throat of the tight knot that had formed. It was painfully obvious that Trip was looking for his own successor, noting which of his best people seemed ready for more authority. "Maybe we can shuffle the schedule to give some of the more promising officers a chance to supervise one of the other shifts -- maybe a rotational schedule or some sort. I'd hate to lose any of them but I don't want to hold anyone back if they're ready for advancement."  
  
"I'll see what I can set up." Tucker responded, a little numb but somewhat reassured that it wasn't quite over. He was staying in charge down here at least until he was formally relieved of duty and it looked as though Jon was going to allow him some say as to whose hands he left the lives of his friends in. "I can probably have something in place in a couple days."  
  
"Don't work too hard." Jonathan chided. "I hear tonight's movie is a good one."  
  
"That's what Travis said." A slight but genuine smile made its way to Trip's lips and he relaxed a little bit, his soul thawing. Jon would always be his friend even if he'd never be his commanding officer again. "I promised to meet him and Hoshi and Matheson from exobiology for dinner and then we were all gonna go together. Hoshi's trying to set the two of them up and wanted me to round things out so she wouldn't be a third wheel dragging them down if they hit it off."  
  
"Hoshi needs to learn to mind her own business." Archer laughed, pleased to hear about the plan and even more pleased that he'd be able to leave Trip on a positive note. His moods swung so fast it was hard to keep up. He was even happier that the situation was far from what T'Pol had described. Tucker had been fine until he was interfered with and now that the irritant had been removed he seemed to be doing fine again.  
  
~*~  
  
Commander Charlie Tucker was whistling softly to himself when he left engineering. He was tired but it was a good kind of tired. They'd gotten the warp engines back on line after only seven hours and so far everything was holding together -- including his temper. With any luck, they could make that planet T'Pol had been talking about in under four days and do a real repair job in the safety of a space dock.  
  
Without even thinking, Trip turned in at the mess hall and went straight for the pecan pie that had become a regular feature in the dessert case. Probably Jonathan's doing. He thought to himself with a wry tilt to the fading smile. Jon had gone out of his way to make sure he had all of his favorite comfort foods whenever he wanted them. Even Malcolm had noticed and he didn't even really look at his plate most days, just shoveled in whatever cook fed him.  
  
"Sometimes, Commander I just can't stand you." Hoshi Sato commented, making a face at Tucker as she reached past his shoulder for a dish of Jell-O. "If I ate half the things you did in half the quantity, they'd need to let out my quarters to make more space, much less my uniform."  
  
"Never happen." Tucker breezily informed her, smiling at being teased. He was so glad T'Pol and Jon were both working late tonight. They meant well but they'd have jumped down Hoshi's throat for the comment about not being able to stand him and destroyed the light mood. "You're as beautiful as a summer breeze and just as light."  
  
"Flatterer." Hoshi shot back, a pleasant heat suffusing her face. "Care to join me?"  
  
"I'd be honored." Trip scraped out a gallant little bow, carefully balancing his growing collection of plates as they moved from one case to another.  
  
Hoshi laughed and reached over to catch a sliding side dish. "Why don't you eat your dinner before loading up on desert? It would make things a lot easier and safer."  
  
"And cheaper." Tucker agreed jokingly. "Duffy down in supplies is threatening to have my pay docked if I keep breaking plates. The problem is if you wait there's nothing left but, well... Jell-O."  
  
"Watch it, Commander." Hoshi gibed, narrowing her eyes in mock challenge. "I happen to like Jell-O."  
  
Hoshi's dark eyes sparkled when her audience laughed. With an impish grin she leaned closer, dropping her voice conspiratorially. "So have you heard the latest on Travis and Matheson?"  
  
"The last thing I heard was that Matheson's roommate was found sleeping in the observation deck three nights ago." One corner of Tucker's mouth twitched into a half smile. They came much more easily these days, especially around Hoshi. "If there's been anything since then, I've been too busy in engineering to listen."  
  
"This morning, Crewman Drake from waste management saw Travis leaving Matheson's quarters at 0400." Hoshi Sato leaned forward in her seat as the commander settled his array of plates on the table between them. "Not a bad match if I do say so myself."  
  
"It's bad luck to gloat before the wedding, Hoshi." Tucker warned, only half teasing. "I had an aunt who used to always play match maker. She spent half her time setting couples up together and the other half hiding from the ones that backfired."  
  
"You said 'had' and 'used to'. What happened to her? Did she die?" Hoshi's dark eyes softened and she reached one hand out before pulling back out of respect for the distance the commander had been keeping between himself and the rest of the crew lately.  
  
"No, she didn't die, though I think it was close for a few minutes there." Trip shook his head a little dumbfounded as he thought back on the day Hoshi was bringing to the surface of his memory. "She tried to split me up with my high school girlfriend just before prom so she could set me up with somebody she thought was a better fit. She was spreadin' around lies about both of us so we'd get mad at each other for things we hadn't done. My momma found out and chased her out of the house with Great-grandma's iron skillet, the both of them yelling like a pair of scalded cats the whole time."  
  
"You're kidding?" Hoshi's eyes were wide. She'd been taken in numerous times by Trip's tall tales but this seemed too dramatic for fiction.  
  
"Nah-uh." Tucker denied. "The neighbors called the cops and everything."  
  
"You come from a strange family, Commander." Hoshi shook her head. If the commander's mother were half as dramatic about things as her son was she could believe this story. "Have you met Ensign Yaro from stellar cartography? She's got four sisters and three brothers. The stories she tells about growing up in that house top even yours, I think. We should all have dinner some time so you two can compare childhoods."  
  
Tucker's eyes teared up as he swallowed wrong and suddenly felt scalding coffee trying to climb into his sinus cavity. Captain Archer was right. Hoshi would never learn and this time Momma and her skillet were nowhere even close enough to holler for.  
  
Watching from a small table slightly off to the side of the large room, Malcolm Reed was reassured by the animated exchange drifting over from the pair. As head of security aboard Enterprise he'd been let in on the commander's problem prior to his release from sickbay just in case it became necessary to force the man to accept the help he needed and he'd been keeping a close eye on the situation ever since then.  
  
He couldn't make out what they were saying from here but they both seemed to be enjoying themselves. It was a vast improvement. Up until the last week or so Commander Tucker had eaten alone in an intimidating silence and then slipped out as soon as he was finished. Hopefully this meant a turning point had been safely passed.   
  
For a while it had been touch and go with Dr. Phlox actually summoning him to fetch Commander Tucker once or twice when he failed to show up for meals all day or was unreasonably late arriving at sickbay to take his medication. The man had been so despondent that Reed had, without being too obvious about it installed an extra safeguard on the weapons lockers. He didn't have the rank to lock out the commander's access codes without Archer's assistance but he had rigged the sensitive locking devices to alert him should anyone use Tucker's code to open one of them.  
  
Looking at Trip now, you couldn't even tell there was anything the matter with him. His own fears, that the man who had slowly become his friend might become increasingly depressed and harm himself or someone else, were slowly being laid to rest.  
  
"Malcolm? Hey, Malcolm. You still with me?" Travis Mayweather waved one hand in front of his friend's eyes.  
  
"Yes. Now stop waving at me like an ass." Malcolm hissed, glancing around to see who might have noticed. "Why would I want to go see a movie I can't even understand the dialog to? There aren't even subtitles in this one."  
  
~*~  
  
"Captain?" T'Pol questioned in a low voice as she stepped across the threshold of the private dining room. "Will Mr. Tucker be joining us tonight?"  
  
"No. He's working late, finishing up some final system checks on the new warp coils." Archer replied, not as defensive as he would've been a few weeks ago.  
  
Phlox's comments about how close he and Trip were had hit hard. He knew how he felt at the thought of sending Trip back to Earth. How much harder would it be for a man struggling with clinical depression to suddenly lose the best friend who had become nearly his sole companion and confidant? The question had made Archer think and it had made him do some real research on his friend's illness. He didn't want to say that he'd started to pull away from Trip at that point but he had tried very hard to quit smothering him and even to try and push him into a non-threatening social situation or two.  
  
"Putting in here for repairs rather than going all the way back to Earth was an excellent idea, Subcommander. We've learned a lot from these people." Archer commented, turning his attention back to his own meal. He'd only managed two bites when it became obvious that T'Pol wasn't joining him.  
  
"Is there a problem Subcommander?" Archer asked, looking up, a little annoyed. He'd been trying to make peace with T'Pol, acknowledge her contributions to this ship and restore the trust that had been damaged when he'd had to jump down her throat about overstepping her bounds with Trip but she didn't make it easy.  
  
"Yes sir, I believe there is." T'Pol gathered her nerve. These humans made the logic she had learned to treasure seem cold and cruel and she had begun increasingly to keep her opinions in check. She, too, had done a great deal of research on the emotional illness humans termed depression and how it affected everyone around the ailing individual. "The Vulcan science vessel, Shan Trokaar, is due to arrive here in two days for a brief layover prior to their return to Vulcan. It would not be difficult to have a message relayed to Starfleet regarding Commander Tucker. I am confident that, were he approached on this matter, Captain Sovan would be willing to transport the commander back to Earth or at least to a rendezvous with an Earth scoutship."  
  
"You still don't think he belongs out here even after the way he handled the accident?" Archer questioned, his eyes shooting toward the door T'Pol had thankfully allowed to close behind her before coming to her point. People had noticed that Trip hadn't been his usual cheerful self after the Magyar mission but they'd all put it down to lingering effects of the supposed alien illness he'd contracted there -- a misperception that had been supported by the occasional sighting of the commander emerging from sickbay before going on duty for the day. He didn't want rumors of the truth spreading when Trip was doing so much better. "If Trip hadn't acted so quickly, a lot of people in engineering would've died and the rest of us would still be drifting around waiting for a tow."  
  
"The commander is being maintained at functional levels through chemical intervention." T'Pol pointed out, her voice very precise and distant, like a schoolgirl reciting a memorized lesson. "This makes him acutely vulnerable to lapses that could prove detrimental to the entire crew should his current regimen be interrupted for any reason. As captain, it is your duty to consider the good of the entire crew and, as Mr. Tucker's friend, is it not also your duty to do what is best for him when he is unable to make such decisions for himself?"  
  
"That's where we disagree, Subcommander." Archer kept his voice level. He was the ship's captain and T'Pol's superior. He wouldn't let anger and stung pride rule him. He couldn't if he wanted to sway her opinion and regain her support. "Commander Tucker is good for this crew and I believe that he is able to make his own decisions regarding his health even if they aren't the ones you or I would make in his place."  
  
"Has anyone asked him?" T'Pol didn't bother softening her own sharp tone.  
  
"Asked him what?" Archer's brow crinkled. He'd been genuinely lost by that last one.  
  
"Has anyone asked Commander Tucker if he wishes to remain on board Enterprise, placing his own life and the lives of the crew in jeopardy?" T'Pol's eyebrow arched, emphasized by the slight tilting of her head. "You've stated that the commander is trying to recover. Have you considered that he might wish to return to Earth where he could receive treatment from doctors who specialize in conditions such as his, thus increasing his chance at a lasting recovery?"  
  
"You're out of line, Subcommander." Archer snapped, wiping his hands on his napkin and rising even though he'd barely begun his dinner. "Now if you'll excuse me, I think there's something I forgot to take care of."  
  
T'Pol stood awkwardly, just a little paler than before as her captain stalked out of the room. She had meditated for more than three Earth hours before coming to confront her captain on this matter. It would require many more hours of meditation before she would be able to sleep tonight.  
  
The Vulcan's arms came down from where they had been clasped behind her back and she walked toward the exit as outwardly collected as always. It would be best to begin her meditations immediately. Food was a distraction her body could exist without for now.  
  
~*~  
  
"Have a seat, Trip." Archer waved his hand to indicate that anywhere in the ready room was fine by him before slumping into a comfortable seat. "This isn't official ship's business until Phlox gets here and he said it might take him a while to get Ensign Michaels patched up. It would seem Mr. Reed is getting underfoot, trying to take an accident report."  
  
Tucker's laugh was a little forced but nonetheless he felt his muscles loosen somewhat and he let himself sink into the familiar chair where he'd so often found refuge in his best friend's company. When he was here for an official ass-chewing, Jon generally hid behind the desk and made him stand in front of it.  
  
"So . . ." Trip broke the slightly uncomfortable quiet of the small room. "Hoshi tells me there's a Vulcan ship arriving tomorrow that's offered to relay messages back to Earth for us."  
  
"Yeah." Archer confirmed. "They have dispatches for us from Starfleet and they offered to relay the crew's personal messages as well as any official mail. Even though the parts we picked up will help us get Relay Four up and running again, I don't want people to have to wait that long to make contact with their families."  
  
"That's a good idea, I guess." Tucker commented. "I just hate sending anything with the Vulcans." He smiled, desperately wanting to keep up a brave front. If Jon was smart and quit letting his heart get in the way of his head he'd be sending more than dispatches and personal mail back with the Vulcans.   
  
"We've been out of touch for a while now." Archer excused. "Everyone has a lot to write home about."  
  
"Yeah." *Some of us more than others.* Tucker thought, losing his smile entirely. "I guess I'm lucky. I won't have to try and fit it all into a letter. Tellin' tales around the dinner table has always been more my style anyway."  
  
"Trip?" Archer straightened up and leaned forward, watching the shadow deepen in his friend's eyes. "Are you gonna be okay if they order you home?"  
  
"Fine, Jon." Trip shifted around in the deep chair until he was more lying in it than sitting. He may as well be comfortable while he still could. He imagined Vulcan starships and Starfleet psychiatric facilities would be pretty stark places. The 'if' in Jon's question got lost in the grim imaginings. "I was just thinkin' about what to tell my folks that won't worry them sick. Starfleet will have to issue a press release about changing out somebody on the senior staff and I don't want them learning about this that way. I don't guess I'll be allowed to just turn up on their doorstep even if I resign from Starfleet right away. It takes a while to process somebody out after a mission as important as Enterprise's -- what with the debriefings and all."  
  
"Do you want to?" The words burst out of Jon without his permission, his heart sinking. "Resign, that is."  
  
"I think it would be for the best." Trip confirmed, not looking at his friend any more. This wasn't what he wanted at all but he couldn't tell Jon that. They hadn't really talked about this before but he knew Jon felt responsible for not seeing his problem before and doing something to prevent what had finally happened. He wanted to make Jon see that everything would be all right even if he wasn't so certain himself.   
  
"I've done a lot of thinking on the subject." Trip continued. "I'm a lot better now than I was before so I don't see why I can't live at home and just see a shrink a couple'a times a week to keep me on track. My folks will be glad to have me until I get back on my feet again. Hell, they'd worry if I were living by myself."  
  
"Starfleet's got some good doctors on staff." Jon's voice was gruff. It sounded like T'Pol had been right after all, not only did Charlie want to go back to Earth, he'd already made plans about what to do with himself once he was there. "I'm sure you'd be fine if you gave them a chance to help you."  
  
"You have actually met my parents haven't you, Jon?" Trip's voice was doubtful and drew the intended laugh from his captain. For just a moment he felt almost normal again, the way he did when he was just hanging out with Hoshi or Travis and their friends or in here, safe with Jon just being best friends instead of captain and engineer. Then it slipped away. "They'll be happier to have me where they can look after me themselves instead of in some Starfleet medical facility."  
  
"I hate feelin' like this." Charles Tucker tilted his head to the side as he looked at his friend, pleading for a little understanding. "I want to get well, Jon. I'll give whoever ends up treatin' me a chance to help."  
  
"I don't think it was ever that bad." Jon protested. "They aren't going to put you in a hospital."  
  
"It might be that bad by the time I get back to Earth if I have to hitch a ride with the Vulcans," Trip tried to make the words a joke but it didn't work for either of them. Jon just looked disturbed and as for himself, well, he could already feel himself sinking back into that black pit at the thought of spending weeks alone aboard a Vulcan ship.  
  
The door chime was a relief for both men. Somehow the relaxed atmosphere in the room had become emotionally charged and was now strangling them both.  
  
"Come in!" Archer called, stretching to reach the button on his desk that would activate the door mechanism.  
  
"Sorry I'm late, Captain. Commander." The cheery Denobulan nodded at both men as he strode briskly to a chair and took a seat. "It took a while to convince Mr. Reed that I was serious about sedating him if he kept getting in my way."   
  
"How did it turn out?" Archer asked, his brow furrowing.  
  
"We finally compromised. I agreed to let him ask all the questions he wanted to as long as he agreed to remain a minimum distance of three meters from the bio-bed while I was working."  
  
"I'll speak with Malcolm about not being so aggressive unless someone's being shot at." Captain Archer stifled a laugh. Malcolm Reed's obsessive approach to ship's security and crew safety was alternately funny or irritating until the shit hit the fan. Then he became absolutely invaluable.  
  
"Thank you, Captain." Phlox nodded agreeably.  
  
Archer grew serious as he looked between the familiar faces: one alien, but trusted, the other nearly as familiar to him as his own. "If it's all right with both of you, I'd like to get down to business. Tomorrow, for all intents and purposes, we'll be in touch with Starfleet command again. I'm going to have to send in all my reports and recommendations. In order to do that, I need your final report, Doctor, on Commander Tucker's current fitness to remain aboard this vessel." Archer looked to Trip, who seemed suddenly to be slightly dazed. "Trip, I wanted you present because what's decided here today will go into your permanent record. You've got a right to hear it and to contest it if you choose."  
  
"Yes, sir." Tucker acknowledged, sitting up in the chair in response to the suddenly official tone of the meeting. His mind was racing. He could contest the report. Then he crashed so hard, his body physically slumped. The bureaucrats at Starfleet headquarters weren't going to listen to the protests of a man who'd been certified mentally unfit for space duty.  
  
"I hope that won't be necessary." Phlox's voice was as usual filled with a gentle humor as he nodded reassuringly at his patient before turning to the captain. "I've spent a great deal of time with Commander Tucker since the incident on Magyar four and he's made considerable progress."  
  
"Would you certify him fit for his duties as chief engineer?" Archer asked.  
  
"Conditionally, yes." Phlox stated, passing a padd across to Archer. "In my official report you will note that I've described in detail Commander Tucker's condition on his return to Enterprise as well as Subcommander T'Pol's account of events on the planet. Further testing and observation also included in the report supported a diagnosis of acute clinical depression which still stands."  
  
"And your prognosis? --" Archer cast a concerned look at his friend's pinched and worried face. Trip had gone pale and begun to perspire a bit but then he guessed he'd be sweating too if it were his future on the line. In a way it was. Trip had been his best friend for years. When the young engineer had joined Henry Archer's warp five project as an undergraduate assistant working toward his Ph.D. in warp field theory, he'd become family. The three of them had spent a lot of long nights together in the testing labs after everyone else had gone home. All Jonathan Archer had left of those times was Trip himself and the starship he'd helped to make a reality. He didn't want to lose either one of them.  
  
"-- Is in the final two pages of the report, Captain. To summarize: There is no reason to expect anything less than a full recovery." Phlox stated so unshakably that for just a moment neither man doubted him. "The chemical imbalance that generally accompanies this disorder is being successfully countered by medication and we're dealing with the mental, emotional and purely logistic problems in therapy. That's my one and only condition. Mr. Tucker must continue to cooperate in all aspects of his treatment if he is to remain actively a part of this crew."  
  
"That's not gonna be a problem, Doc." Trip Tucker broke in, not really sure he was hearing right but determined not to blow it if he was. He scooted to the edge of his seat, not able to just observe any more. "Are you sayin' that I can stay?"  
  
To his shame, his voice broke on the final word like a school boy's. He didn't even realize he was sitting there with his mouth still slightly open in the middle of a reaction that expected words but couldn't find any. It was a bad habit he'd tried many times to break -- ever since Jon had held a mirror up in front of him one day to prove he did it and he'd seen how dumb he looked.  
  
"If that's what you want." Dr. Phlox nodded.  
  
"Wait a minute." Archer held up a hand, hating himself for dashing the sudden wild hope flaring in his friend's eyes. "Dr. Phlox, are you certain remaining aboard Enterprise won't compromise the commander's continued recovery or place him in needless danger? No offense but you aren't a specialist in human emotional disorders."  
  
"None taken, Captain. I've had to do a lot of studying to care for Mr. Tucker adequately." Phlox was clearly perturbed by the criticism but put his personal reaction aside for the sake of the young man waiting anxiously to learn his fate. "To address your last question first; we're all in needless danger every day out here. That's the nature of exploration; going beyond the boundaries of what's safe. As for your first concern; while the commander could undoubtedly find more experienced help on Earth and perhaps even better care, I do not believe it would place his recovery in jeopardy to remain. There's also the self esteem aspect to consider."  
  
"Yeah, Jon." Tucker broke in again, grasping at the shred of hope. "It would be really bad for my self esteem to get sent back. Please!"  
  
Before Archer could gather himself to respond, his chief medical officer was once more chiming in on behalf of his patient. "Captain, the days when a controllable mental illness such as this would bar a man of Commander Tucker's abilities from putting those talents to their best use belong in the past. As explorers, isn't it our duty to break through the misconceptions that hold your species back from their full potential?"  
  
"Yes, it is." Archer agreed, his head whirling. He hadn't intended to be the bad guy here. All his preconceptions of what this meeting would be had been turned on their head repeatedly over the last couple days. "Are you sure this is what you want, Trip?"  
  
"More than anything." Tucker replied, his voice firm but his brow furrowed with anxiety.  
  
"What about all those plans? Living with your parents while you get treatment." Archer asked. "I have to be sure this is what you really want."  
  
"It is, Jon -- Cap'n." Tucker fidgeted in his seat. "I won't let you down."  
  
"You never have." Jon smiled. It was the truth. They were both only human. They'd let each other down in a million small ways over the years but never in anything important. "So that's it. I'll let Admiral Forrest know that in my opinion we can't spare our chief engineer to go all the way back to Earth over a minor problem our own medical officer has under control."  
  
Epilogue  
  
Archer was pleased to find Trip already in the private dining room when he finally got there. He hadn't had the chance to check and see if he'd be eating alone tonight or if Tucker would be joining him as had been their habit.  
  
"Glad you waited." Jon commented as he stepped in. "I've been in so many long distance meetings today that twice I nearly told Malcolm to use Relay Four as a test target for his torpedoes. Remind me again: Why did we fix that relay?"  
  
Trip let his head fall back laughing for a moment. He was still smiling broadly when he looked up to rib his friend. "Don't ask me. You're the one who wanted all of them up and running so we could stay in contact with Earth."  
  
"So I was." The captain's face took on a more serious look. "I just got off the line with Admiral Forrest and one of the topics of conversation was you." Archer announced, resting a hand on Trip's shoulder and patting it briefly before taking his place and pouring himself a glass of wine. "He doesn't like the idea but he upheld Dr. Phlox's recommendation that you remain aboard Enterprise and continue as chief engineer."  
  
"Whew!" Tucker released a long held in dramatic sigh of relief. "I didn't think we'd pull it off! I gotta tell you Jon, I thought my career was history even with you and Phlox on my side."  
  
"It nearly was." Jon agreed. "You're the one who pulled it out of the fire. The admiral does want to set up a video consultation with someone at Starfleet psychiatric though."  
  
"What kind of consultation?" Trip ruthlessly pushed down the slight flutter in the pit of his stomach.  
  
"Just a sit down between you, Phlox and a specialist to evaluate where you're at and where to go from here. Admiral Forest said he'd spoken with one doctor who thinks you'd be better off on a less potent medication that can be administered in monthly injections. He didn't go into a lot of detail. He said to save it for the people who knew what it all meant."  
  
"That's okay." Trip reassured. "Dr. Phlox and I already talked about that. He thinks it'll be safer than relying on daily medications I might miss if we're in any kind of real trouble for very long but he's kind of waiting for me to stabilize a little bit more first."  
  
"Us? In trouble?" Jon dead-panned. "What makes you think something like that could happen Commander?"  
  
"Very funny, Jon." Trip made a face at his captain. "Sometimes it feels like all I do is get in trouble out here. I don't even have to leave the ship to do it half the time and if it's not me personally in trouble then it's Enterprise herself and everyone aboard."  
  
"Tell me about it!" The captain rolled his eyes dramatically. They grew quiet for a minute as a steward came in and served the baked chicken and fresh greens the chef had prepared for them.  
  
"T'Pol not joining us?" Archer asked, picking up his fork.  
  
"Nah. It's some kind of remembrance day on Vulcan when they fast and meditate a lot -- kinda like Memorial Day without the picnic or any of the fun stuff." Tucker made a face, digging into his meal with an enthusiasm fueled by pure thankfulness that it wasn't him starving in front of some candle flame.  
  
"Is that why you're so chipper today -- because T'Pol isn't here?" Archer asked, with only a forced half-smile. The ever-present needling between his two most senior officers had too much of any edge to it these days. He was going to have to pay some extra attention to easing that rift before the prejudice affected the rest of the crew.  
  
"No, I feel almost normal today. I made it through my whole shift without feeling like I wanted to crawl under a rock and sleep for the rest of my life. I even had an actual conversation with T'Pol over lunch -- in her case green tea. She treated me like a person, like I had a right to be here. She even made a comment about the engines I'd swear was a compliment and I was nice to her, too. It wasn't even hard. That's why I'm so chipper." Tucker declared expansively. "I know it'll be a long time before I really feel normal again all of the time but I'm starting to feel like I'm actually gonna get there."   
  
"You will if you keep working at it." Archer assured, slipping a bite of chicken under the table to Porthos who had been waiting in the dining room. How the dog had gotten out of his quarters this time, he didn't know but it was nice to have him here.  
  
"The doc said I should maybe tell the people that are really important to me what's been going on with me so they can help -- the ones that didn't already know about it anyway." Trip replied, his eyes twinkling. One booted foot slid out to gently rub the dog's back. It was good to see Jon relax. That was why he'd let Porthos out in the first place. The little dog was a good distraction for the captain.  
  
"And?"  
  
"I tried it with Hoshi and Travis and a couple of my key people down in engineering and they were really supportive. A couple of them had even guessed it." Tucker's smile got a little rueful. He knew he hadn't hidden his condition very well. He hadn't had the energy to do much but exist for a while, there, but it was unpleasant to learn that his own people had been speculating about him and that one of the theories subscribed to was mental illness. It might be the truth but it was also still a stigma. "Hoshi scolded me about trying to go it alone too much. Of course, then she turned right around and tried to set me up with Matheson -- seems things didn't work out between her and Travis after all."  
  
The shared laughter that lasted long enough to make their stomachs ache effectively ended the conversation. Out in the main mess hall, the laughter could be dimly heard and brought smiles from the nearest crewmen. They had no idea what was going on in the captain's private dining room but laughter was always good. Humanity was finally out amongst the stars and Earth's very first starship was driven as much by the enthusiasm of her captain and crew as by the dilithium crystals that powered her warp core.  
  
END  
  
Author's note: This story is pretty strictly a character piece focussing on emotion and character interactions. That's why the things happening with the ship itself are merely glossed over. It grew from noting that for somebody as high up in the chain of command as Tucker is, he panics really easily when he runs into a problem he can't take apart and fix. He's very emotional and takes it all personally. Only Archer grounds him. This made me wonder what might happen if Archer wasn't around when he lost it. Unfortunately for me, this story is not unique. That synchronicity of ideas in the fan community got me again, dang it! I'm posting this anyway because I wrote it for me -- just my take on one little behavior possibility. For those who love heart-melting but non-sappy Trip stories, and who haven't read it yet, I'd really like to recommend an Enterprise fic posted on fanfiction.net titled: Call Me Charlie by Mara Greengrass. It's one of the better written pieces I've ever run across, exactly the type I love to read or write. The plot line is so probable it might turn up in an episode yet. The only amazing thing is that it hasn't already happened involving more of the crew. I found and read it for the first time when I was about five or six pages into writing my own story. I'm still pissed that I didn't get there first but I'm laughing at myself about it so all is well. Thank you. 


End file.
